ACT 36: What We Really Wanted
by Galaxy1001D
Summary: When Roger loses Big O the Paradigm Company reinstates him as a Military Police Officer. Roger's first case when he's back on the force is the Missing Android Case, a case that leads to murder. But when Roger becomes the prime suspect, can he throw suspicion off himself without incriminating Dorothy? THE BIG O: SEASON THREE
1. Defeat of the Black Megadeus

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

_Paradigm City is a city without Memories. But that doesn't mean that the past can't come back to haunt you. _

Everything was scarlet, like he was looking at the world through a crimson lens. He was sitting in a chair in a control room of some kind. His feet were in pedals, but he wasn't on a bicycle. Between his feet were three circular cathode screens. The center one displayed a moving line resembling the readings of an electrocardiogram.

_My name is Roger Smith. Eight years ago I quit the military police and became a professional negotiator. When words aren't enough I turn to Big O, the massive metal giant known as a megadeus. When pilot and megadeus are in sync there's nothing we can't do, but if one of them is off their game it only leads to disaster. _

Roger Smith rubbed his face and tried to get back to reality. Various knobs and switches were arrayed around him. In addition two arms curved around his chair to end with a joystick within reach of each of his hands. The curved wall directly ahead of him seemed to be made of a partially translucent red material, but his vision was too blurry to show him the outside world.

His boyish features showed the strain of an inner battle. His broad shoulders hunched as he bent his trim waist in an instinctive attempt to protect himself. He ran a black gloved hand through his jet-black hair as he clenched his strong jaw. He loosened the black tie was bisected by a gray stripe and opened the collar of his crisp white shirt before opening the black polo jacket he wore over it.

_Jason Beck, a small time crook, has somehow gained access to lost Memories. Memories not only about how to build and operate a megadeus, but he also seems to know everything about me._

A tall thin man with a blonde pompadour hairdo wearing a canary colored double-breasted suit was in a similar control room, this one all done in gold. "Hey Roger," Jason Beck smiled. "Catch you at a bad time?"

_The mysterious woman who calls herself Angel told me that Paradigm Company's new chairman, Lester Young, ordered Beck to capture her to find something called the Repository of Lost Memories. But is Beck really working for Young? Or for himself?_

A beautiful blonde woman in a black dress and a pink jacket danced before Roger's murky vision. "I… I found them," Angel gulped. "The Memories. Gordon Rosewater showed them to me. They're stored in a massive computer system called the Repository of Lost Memories. There's a control system that can erase or restore everyone's Memories. There's a surveillance system that monitors nearly everyone in the city."

_Has Beck already gained access to the Repository of Lost Memories? He seems to possess information he couldn't possibly have._

"I don't know what he's up to but he could do a lot of damage with what he knows," Angel had said.

_He knows things that I've told no one. He has access to all my personal demons. Somehow he has possession of the Memories I myself have lost. Who I am. Where I come from. How it is that I can pilot a megadeus. And my deep connection to a girl named R Dorothy Wayneright._

"Are you in love with her, Roger?" a slender, teenage girl had asked a few weeks back. She had been wearing a reddish black dress that had a white ruffled collar and formal white cuffs at the time. A set of black stockings and shiny black shoes completed her ensemble. Her red pageboy haircut had been immaculate, her bangs broken by a black barrette.

"I don't know if you understand," he had replied, "but sometimes it's hard to tell if you really love someone or if you just want what you can't have."

"I understand," the girl had replied coldly. "I understand intimately."

_R Dorothy Wayneright: an android I let into my home after her creator was murdered last year. She seems to have some link to both me and the megadeuses. Once, when I was lost in never-ending nightmares, she used our connection to Big O to enter my subconscious and bring me out of it. Her devotion is absolute: but can an android truly know love?_

"Roger, if you love someone, isn't it normal to want the person you love to be happy?" she had asked him that very morning.

_Is Dorothy actually human enough to want more?_

"You think of me as a child, remember?" she had retorted when he questioned her. "You think of me as a dependent. Despite the fact that I have the maturity level that belongs to that dead girl I was modeled after you still think of me as being two years old. You've made it quite clear."

_Is that what could turn an R Dorothy into a Red Destiny?_

"Raw… JER!" Dorothy's homicidal twin had bellowed almost a year ago as she fired a pistol at him.

_Can we trust anyone when we can't even trust ourselves?_

Angel and the teenage android were walking briskly through an alley to avoid pursuit. "What's going on Dorothy?" the mysterious blonde asked the robot girl. "What did you mean when you said that just now?"

"Roger is in trouble," the android said. "Beck has set a trap for him, just as he has set a trap for you."

"A trap for me?" Angel repeated. "How does he even know where I am? Are you sure, Dorothy?"

"Yes," the dainty android said as she discharged a small handheld electroshock weapon against Angel's neck. "Quite sure."

_Beck spent weeks planning this, and I've fallen right into it._

"Roger! Hey Roger!" Beck's voice called over the speakers as the dazed negotiator helplessly sat in the cockpit of Big O. "You still with me buddy? You see the numbers I put on your screen?"

9 701330 570415. It was the number that was under the barcode in the eye in Roger's nightmares! He couldn't even see the screen anymore; all he could see was the bar code. The eye. Bald children staring into the flames. Books burning on the shelves. A doddering old man named Gordon Rosewater offering him a tomato…

"Recognize that number Roger?" Beck's mocking voice asked. "Do you remember the Ellen Waite case where little Dorothy's identical twin was killing off people in their twenties who claimed they had Memories from forty years ago? You found a hit list right? Do you remember? Next to every name was a barcode that had a number under it. Do you remember the last name? The next person to be targeted by the killer? Do you? Huh?"

"R-D," Roger muttered as the memory of the hit list flashed before his eyes.

"That's right," Beck cooed condescendingly. "And who did she go after next?"

"Me!" Roger gasped as the specter of a maniacal gun toting Dorothy Wayneright assaulted him. But it wasn't Dorothy Wayneright; it was an android that looked just like her. The killer android he had called 'Red Destiny'.

"R-D," Beck's voice taunted. "It couldn't have been the name of Dorothy's twin sister now was it? It makes no sense to put herself on her _own_ hit list does it?"

"No!" Roger shuddered as images from his nightmares assaulted him.

"'R-D' doesn't refer to the _assassin_ Roger!" Beck chortled from cockpit of the golden megadeus. "_Her _name's not R-D! It never was! It refers to the _victim_! Haven't you figured it out by now? I've got _your _number!"

ACT 36

WHAT WE REALLY WANTED

_Chapter One: Defeat of the Black Megadeus_

The black megadeus known as Big O was over five stories tall. Two vaguely humanoid legs supported a barrel shaped body. The enormous arms of the megadeus were in reality massive piledrivers with huge mechanical hands instead of chisels. The head of was an impassive face that was dwarfed by the megadeus' humungous body. The megadeus' face was topped by a red crystalline crown and the top of its chest was covered by a red collar that concealed the cockpit.

It was facing a golden yellow five story tall robot with a strangely shaped head that was crowned with three sharp points. Its arms were open and bent up at the elbows as if it was surrendering or telling the black megadeus how big of a fish it caught. Inside the yellow robot were Jason Beck and his two cronies Bobo 'Dove' Jacobs and Lou 'T-Bone' Torelli.

Bobo AKA 'Dove' was a skinny man whose greenish black hair, chalk white skin and thick red lips made him look like a clown. Lou AKA 'T-Bone' was a tubby little man who dressed like a beatnik. Jason Beck was dressed in a canary yellow suit complete with a double breasted polo jacket. The three of them were in a circular control room seated at consoles.

"You know Roger," Beck said as his cohorts moved the yellow robot towards the Big O, "I know stuff about you that I'll bet money _you_ don't even know! For example, do you know why you can pilot the black megadeus? Yeah I know. You've got Memories. But that's not the whole story, is it? I mean honestly, it takes three of us to control this thing but somehow you can run yours with just _one_ pilot? There's gotta be something going on here, you know what I mean?"

He grinned at his cohorts and spun his finger in the air. The arms of the golden robot pointed at Big O while the hands spun around and turned into giant drills. Beams of energy shot out of them and raked the chest of the black megadeus, but when they hit the red crystal collar they were reflected back the attacker. The gold robot staggered backwards as the armor on its chest was cut open.

"Whoa!" Beck cried as he and his lackeys worked furiously at their controls. "This is no good fellas. We're just going to have to take this megadeus apart the old fashioned way."

"Right boss!" Dove squeaked in his high pitched voice.

"The upper arms look like a good place to start," T-Bone offered. "They look like the least protected part of the megadeus."

"Good thinkin'," Beck grimaced as he activated the radio on his console. "I gotta keep crow-boy reeling so the black megadeus doesn't flatten us! Hey Roger? You okay in there? You still with me old buddy?"

"Ungh," Roger grunted from the cockpit of Big O. His arms pulled on the joystick and his feet pressed on the pedals but they refused to budge. The black megadeus refused to move. That was okay. Roger was lost in his own private world anyway.

"Where was I?" Beck's voice said over the speakers as sweat rolled down Roger's twitching face. "Oh yeah! How do you manage to have such fine control over the black megadeus? It's almost as if that thing's an extension of your own body. Well guess what: It really is!"

Roger's eyes darted left and right in what is known by sleep researchers as 'rapid eye movement', but he wasn't asleep. His eyes were wide open.

"It seems that inside your body are these little robots that were injected into your body by the megadeus," Beck continued while the gold robot used its drills to attack Big O's forearms. "Let's call these little guys 'nanodeueses'…"

"Nanodeuses?" T-bone repeated. "What are nanodeuses?"

"Why not call them 'minideuses?" Dove piped.

"Because _nanodeuses_ sound a whole lot cooler that's why!" Beck snapped. "Now you've done it; I've lost my concentration. What was I telling him?"

"Uh… somethin' about the black megadeus being an extension of his own body," T-bone offered.

"Oh yeah!" Beck smiled. "That's right." He activated the radio again. "As I was saying Roger. You got little robots in you that keep in contact with the megadeus. It's not just your skill at the controls, Crow-boy, that megadeus _knows_ what you want it to do! It's practically a part of your own body! No wonder it was impossible to beat you! It's as if the two of you are one!"

Roger clawed at his temples as he tried to clear his head. The cockpit wasn't really filled with tomatoes. The city wasn't destroyed and littered with the wreckage of destroyed megadeuses. His eyes were closed so he wasn't really seeing a barcode flash by with that damnable number. Old Gordon Rosewater, the first chairman of the Paradigm Company and the founder of the city wasn't really standing over him wearing bloodstained surgical scrubs smiling beatifically down at him. And Roger wasn't really standing in a train tunnel as a cloaked figure in a red hood exploded into a wave of fire that engulfed him and burnt him to a crisp.

Meanwhile the golden robot turned its drills on one of the forearms. Compared to the rest of Big O, the forearms looked fragile almost slender, easily the least protected part of the megadeus.

"You forget everything, don't you Roger?" Beck's voice mocked. "You don't remember what they did to you! What they took away and what they gave you! You could have had it all but you knew there was no point! That's okay! Sometimes it hurts too much to remember! Speaking of hurting too much, let me tell you something about sweet innocent little Dorothy. Little Dorothy might be sweet, but I'd hardly call her innocent."

At that moment the slender red-haired android put the unconscious Angel into a yellow van that was parked by a curb. Overhead, behind the buildings behind her one could see the gold megadeus severing the left arm of the black one.

"Little Dorothy has secrets that she shares with no one," Beck continued as the dainty android got in the driver's seat and started the van. "Let's start with the reason she can bring lost megadeuses back from the dead! It's a real pip!"

"Ah!" To Roger's eyes, the cockpit seemed to be filled with tomatoes. Even the joysticks had vanished to be replaced with two unopened tomato cans. He could still see one of the monitors though. That monitor showed a silhouette of Big O and revealed that neither one of its arms was working.

"It seems that Dorothy has nanodeuses in her system just like you do," Beck crowed. "Only hers aren't bonded to any specific megadeus; that's why giant robots come back from the dead and go after her when she's around. They're all trying to bond with their domineus but their domineuses are long gone!" Big O's second arm was severed under the restless attack of the gold robot's drills. Now the black megadeus was literally unarmed. "Since Dorothy doesn't eat, her nanodeuses don't rebuild her as much as yours do. She heals more like a normal person than like a lizard like you do Roger! Of course she does. Otherwise, you'd have needed to give her new skin every few weeks wouldn't you? No, her nanodeuses just repair her scrapes and cuts and run maintenance just like whatever normal humans have. It doesn't seem like much but she doesn't have to worry about wearing out and rusting away like a normal android. If you blow her foot off you still gotta build her another one though! It's not like it is with you after all. I figure with you it might take months to years but someday you'd be standing on your own two feet sooner or later."

"Augh!" Roger cried out as the black megadeus fell on its back. The gold one straddled it and attacked its chest with its drills.

"Who knows? Maybe the little critters remap her brain so she can truly be 'alive', or as alive as any android can be," Beck chortled as he and his men operated the controls. "By the way, did you ever tap that? I really hope you did. But let's get back to _you_, shall we? The point is that the black megadeus monitors and controls your little nanodeuses to keep them from malfunctioning. With enough vitamins, minerals, and protein, I figure those little guys could keep you alive forever as long as the megadeus was functioning. But you know what? In order to heal you, you gotta survive your injury in the first place! Let's see you get out of this, _Roger_!"

"Argh!" Roger gasped as one of the drills dug into the crimson collar that protected the cockpit. He had managed to pull himself away from visions of burning books and children staring into fires long enough to see that threats were coming at him in the _real_ world! But did he even know which world was real anymore? He better figure it out fast or he just might die in both of them.

At that moment the gold robot staggered back after being hit by an artillery shell. "What the hell?" Beck gasped.

From down the street a number of mobile artillery vehicles fired at the gold megadeus. "Keep firing men!" a grizzled officer with a horseshoe mustache and muttonchops sideburns ordered. "Get that thing off the black megadeus! If it pierces the hull and kills the pilot I'll have your hides!"

A man wearing civilian clothes, a gas mask, a raincoat, and fedora was standing next to him. "This looks bad Colonel Dastun," the masked man said calmly. "The black megadeus has never been defeated like this before."

"Do androids do nothing but state the obvious R Fredrick O'Reilly?" Colonel Dastun, the temporary head of the military police snapped. "Use your android brain to direct artillery fire! I don't want to hit the black megadeus on accident!"

"Will do Colonel," the android nodded.

In the control room of the gold megadeus Beck and his men were shaken like maracas at a Mexican Hat Dance as artillery shells exploded on the hull.

"Aaah!" Beck screamed as yet another shell hit the giant golden robot.

"We can't take any more while our armor's compromised boss!" Dove whined.

"He's right!" T-Bone agreed. "We split open our own armor when the black megadeus reflected our beams back on us!"

"What should we do, boss?" Dove sniveled.

"What do you _think_ we should do?" Beck asked sarcastically. "Run away you morons! Let's amscray! Vamoose! Go!"

The gold robot rotated its waist until its torso, arms and head was facing away from Big O before it rolled away on it's the treads on its feet. For such a big robot it could move surprisingly quickly.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Reinstatement Orders_


	2. Reinstatement Orders

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 36

WHAT WE REALLY WANTED

_Chapter Two: Reinstatement Orders_

"Get emergency teams over to the black megadeus!" Colonel Dastun ordered as the gold megadeus retreated. "Keep the reporters back! Shepard! Take your men and form a perimeter! Get this area cordoned off immediately!"

Dastun sighed and looked back at the fallen giant. The black megadeus was on its back. Both of his arms severed off at the forearms. And a hole was drilled through the crimson collar at the top of the chest that protected the cockpit. Fortunately only the tip of the drill had actually penetrated, but the shrapnel from Big O's crimson collar would be lethal!

Dastun was distracted by the sound of some commotion behind him. "Huh?" He looked over his shoulder and was surprised when a slender figure riding a bicycle jumped off one of the massive mobile howitzer vehicles and over his head. His surprised men cried out and leveled their rifles at a slender girlish figure in a reddish black dress pedaling away towards the fallen megadeus at over forty miles an hour. Dastun bellowed into his walkie-talkie. "Stand down! Stand down! Repeat: Do _not_ fire! All units hold your fire!"

Dastun looked through his binoculars to see the red-haired teenage girl reach the Big O and climb up severed forearm and shoulder of the fallen megadeus. Soon she was dashing across the crimson collar and entered the hole in Big O's chest to entire the control room. "That has _got_ to be R Dorothy Wayneright," the grizzled officer muttered.

Dorothy slid down the depression made by the gold megadeus' drill, slipped through the narrow hole and landed on the sturdy metal ring that encircled Roger's chair. The entire chamber had tilted ninety degrees and Roger was lying unconscious in his seat. His face was bleeding from numerous tiny cuts and he moaned and fidgeted as he lay on his back, looking sightlessly forward at the sky.

Dorothy's mouth moved at hyperspeed as electronic gibberish escaped her lips. The barrette in her hair extended out to reveal a DVD drive as eight metal tentacles ending in sharp needles emerged from the base of Roger's chair.

Dorothy climbed off the podium and onto the chair with Roger, spreading her legs and straddling the unconscious negotiator. She put her arms around him as four of the metal tentacles snaked their way into the gap behind her barrette and the rest of the metal cords pierced Roger's back.

"Contact has been made," she said in a soft emotionless voice.

Roger was in a library filled with burning books. A flaming book fell off the shelves titled _The History of the World._

"Roger!" Dorothy's voice called.

A group of bald children stared into the flames.

"Roger!" the girl called again.

A squad of Big O's marched through a burning city as megadeuses of other models fired lasers out of their eyes.

"Roger! Snap out of it!"

In the real world, Dorothy grunted in frustration before tilting her head to one side and pressing her lips against his gibbering mouth.

"Roger," Dorothy's husky voice whispered in his ears as he embraced the little android and pulled his new bride close to him.

"Ah!" Roger cried. Dorothy was dangling over the edge of Big O's open cockpit, clinging to Roger's hand for dear life. As she reached up with her free hand, her dainty fingers slipped out of his. Roger couldn't even hear himself screaming as he saw the terrified girl falling down to the malevolent ooze below, her white dress fluttering like a billowing ghost. "DOR…THEE!" he shrieked.

His eyes snapped open and he saw her face pressed close to his.

"I'm right here Roger Smith," she said as the metal tentacles retracted out from the gap in her head. "There's no need to shout," she added as her barrette slid shut.

"Dorothy!" Roger gagged and shuddered as the other tentacles removed themselves from his back and disappeared under his chair. "You were falling! You were dying! I lost you!"

"I'm right here Roger."

He hugged the little android, tears escaping the eyes he was squeezing shut. "I lost you-I lost you-I lost you," he chanted.

"No you haven't," she assured him. "I'm right here."

"Where are we?" he whined as he fought to control his shivering.

"We're in the cockpit of Big O," the little android informed him. "You were incapacitated and the yellow megadeus severed both of Big O's arms. You really need to stay awake when you're driving Roger Smith."

"Guh! Whuh?" Roger sputtered before he laughed hysterically and hugged Dorothy again. "Oh Dorothy! Don't ever change!" He kissed her on the cheek before he cackled like a maniac.

Outside Dastun and O'Reilly were surprised to see gigantic cranes and a pair of crawler transporters hauling an enormous flatbed trailer converge on the fallen megadeus. "What are they doing here?"

From his tower in the central dome a stout man in his fifties wearing an expensive suit smirked in triumph. "At last," he smirked. "Exactly what I've been waiting for." He picked up a telephone. "Hello this is Lester Young. Get me in contact with Colonel Dastun."

Back in the harbor district a young officer approached Dastun carrying a field telephone with a long cord spooling away from it. "Phone call for you Colonel," he said as he offered his commanding officer the phone.

"Dastun," the grizzled veteran grunted as he took the phone. "Mister Young! What is the meaning of this? You mean to tell me…"

Back at his office at Paradigm Headquarters Lester Young was a picture of confidence. "Colonel Dastun. You and your men will assist my people with collecting the pieces of the black megadeus and transporting it back to Paradigm Headquarters. It is essential for the security of the city that we get it up and running as soon as possible. My predecessor had a hangar hidden under the central dome that he used to assemble the white and red megadeuses he used to attack the city. We can use that to get the black one repaired."

"What about the pilot?" Dastun growled. Even though he knew the Paradigm Corporation's new chairman knew the identity of Big O's operator, he didn't want to say Roger's name over an open line.

"See that he gets the medical attention he needs," Young instructed. "I want him in my office as soon as he is discharged from the hospital. Keep his identity a secret if at all possible and tell your men to keep the media away. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly sir," Dastun sighed. "I'll make sure your orders are carried out."

"Satisfactory," Young said before he hung up.

Dastun stared at the telephone for a moment before handing the phone back to the officer that gave it to him. At least Young seemed interested in protecting Roger. Maybe this wasn't a total disaster but the chairman sounded too smug this to be _good_ news.

Inside the black megadeus the control room trembled as numerous cranes attached hooks to Big O.

"Hey! What's going on?" Roger protested.

Dorothy rolled off him and jumped down to the back wall below.

"They're stealing Big O!" Roger cried. "They can't do that!"

"Roger, we have to get out of here or they'll take us too," the girl informed him.

Roger grit his teeth and growled in frustration. "I'm coming back for you Big O," he muttered as he rolled out his chair.

Outside, the workmen cried out in alarm as smoke belched out of the fallen megadeus to blind them completely.

Roger pedaled Dorothy's bicycle away in the confusion as the tiny android ran alongside him. Roger's face was flushed and his nostrils were flaring. This had to be the most humiliating thing that Beck had done to him yet! One way or another he was going to get back at the wily criminal for this!

There was nothing he could do as Big O was moved to an enormous flatbed trailer and carried off like a fallen warrior on his shield.

* * *

In the heart of the city, outside of the shattered geodesic domes that once protected the neighborhoods and estates of the rich, stood a spacious tower that was formerly a bank before the disaster that left Paradigm City without memories. It was built over the nexus of the underground transportation system that Paradigm had enjoyed until four decades ago. The suites at the top floor were decorated like a Victorian mansion; the roof was a patio that had tasteful sculpture and a garden.

Roger was at his desk speaking into the phone. His coat, gloves, and tie were gone and his shirt was rumpled with a few buttons open towards the collar. Dorothy was hovering nearby attempting to apply two inch long adhesive bandages to the shallow cuts on his face. "Yes, I want to speak with Lester Young!" he barked into the phone as he waved the girl off him. "No I don't want to hold! I've been on hold for… dammit! They put me on hold!"

"I'm sure they will contact you eventually Roger," the girl assured him.

"Dammit," Roger hung up the phone. "I hope you're righ…" He was interrupted when the telephone rang. "Hello!" he barked. "This is Roger Smith! Who is this?"

"Roger it's me," Colonel Dastun's voice told him. Back at his office at Military Police Headquarters, Dastun was sitting behind his desk speaking into his telephone. "I've been trying to reach you for twenty minutes, but all I get is a busy signal. Young wants us both in his office as soon as possible. Are you all right?"

"I'm all right," Roger grumbled into the phone. "I just need to get something out of my system. I should be there in an hour."

"See you there, kid," Dastun nodded.

Roger slammed the phone again. "I've been on hold for almost an hour," he seethed as he covered his face with his hand. "If I would have been smart and just hung up…" He stopped and sat up straight abruptly, the frustrated and impatient man had gone, the determined and steely eyed negotiator had returned. "Norman!" he called.

A tall elderly man wearing an archaic tuxedo, an eye patch, and a magnificent handlebar mustache entered the office carrying a hanger with a freshly pressed double-breasted black suit on it. "Change of clothes sir?" Norman Burg asked.

* * *

Soon Roger and Dastun were in Lester Young's office at Paradigm Headquarters. Roger noted that the room was decorated exactly the same as the office at Young's home, right down to the chairs and divans facing the large mahogany desk.

"Gentlemen, take a seat and we can begin," said the portly executive seated behind his desk.

"Were does Paradigm get off confiscating Big O?" Roger demanded. "If you think…"

"Sit down sir and do not speak until you have collected your thoughts!" Young thundered back. "Do you think I invited you here to listen to you dribble? Sit down Mister Smith; I prefer eyes at a level! Unless you wish to arrange your thoughts in some cell I suggest you control yourself!"

Roger bit back his remark and both he and Dastun sat. Young drummed his fingers as he watched Roger struggle to regain control of his emotions. The negotiator closed his eyes and counted to ten. Twice. Finally he opened his eyes and spoke in his professional 'negotiator' voice. "Why did you take Big O?"

"Did you expect me to leave the black megadeus lying in the street?" Young snorted. "Your friend Mister Beck seems to have a talent for the collection and repair of broken megadeuses. That scenario is unacceptable. I took the liberty of taking the megadeus to a secure location."

"You sure did," Roger muttered.

"It was not I but you who made that step necessary Mister Smith," Young declared. "The operation of the black megadeus against the yellow one was disgraceful. Did you suffer mechanical failure?"

"No," Roger grumbled before he could stop himself.

"Pilot error then," Young decided. "Don't blame yourself Mister Smith it was bound to happen. Maintaining and operating the black megadeus is too great an endeavor for any one man. Your record thus far is nothing short of miraculous."

"Thanks," Roger grunted.

"Fortunately, I have a solution that should satisfy all parties," Young announced confidently. He opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a legal envelope and tossed it in Roger's direction.

"What's this?" Roger asked suspiciously.

"Your reinstatement orders Mister Smith," Young informed him. "Effective immediately your commission has been reactivated and you are hereby promoted to captain and placed in charge of a top secret special project answerable only to Colonel Dastun and myself."

"What?" Roger snarled in disbelief. "Dastun, did you know about this?"

"I swear Roger, I did _not_," the grizzled officer insisted.

"That is because I haven't given him his orders yet," Young said as he pushed a second legal envelope across the desk in Dastun's direction. Dastun rose from his seat and collected it while trying to get the expression of astonishment off his face.

"You can't do that," Roger protested. "I resigned! There has to be a war declared or a state of emergency to reactivate me and you know it!"

"Oh there _is_ a state of emergency," Young assured him. "The black megadeus has been defeated. The gold one is still at large. The city is helpless. You are hereby reactivated and promoted, _captain_."

"This is ridiculous," Roger snorted.

"No sir, what is ridiculous is the notion that a private citizen can command such a powerful weapon and be answerable to no one!" Young leaned forward and tapped his finger on his desk for emphasis. "The idea that our fair city should be dependent on someone who does not answer to it is absurd! Why my predecessors didn't confiscate the megadeus earlier is a mystery! I assure you sir that I will have order in my city with or without your cooperation! Is that understood?"

"You can't _make_ me pilot Big O," Roger insisted.

"Oh Mister Smith, but I can," Young scowled dangerously. "If you refuse to do your duty, I shall expose your identity to the property owners of the city and let them sue you for damages!"

"Sue me for damages?" Roger raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

Young opened a file. "July eighth of last year," he read. "The black megadeus appears under Houston Street and destroys Canterbury Apartments while emerging from below the ground; August twentieth, black megadeus causes street to collapse under the Upper West Side Dome; October fourth, black megadeus appears under a warehouse owned by Phips and Sons Rental; need I go on?"

Roger's only response was to stare at Young in slack jawed amazement.

"Fear not Captain Smith, the Paradigm Corporation will take responsibility for any damages that may incur during the course of your duty," Young assured him. "The city will also provide you with immunity from persecution from past liabilities you have incurred in the past. In return you will return to active duty and assume control of the Big O Project and submit to any orders or regimen that Colonel Dastun finds necessary to inflict upon you. Let us face facts: He's the only officer on the force you will listen to, am I right? I know you do not trust me and in light of the actions of my predecessors that is understandable. I assure that in this administration, skullduggery is used only as a last resort. We will regain control and restore order to this city so it can have a chance to rebuild. Paradigm City cannot survive a repeat of the abuses it has suffered in the past and I for one refuse to let our civilization perish on my watch. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?"

"Perfectly sir," Dastun said as he rose from his chair and saluted.

"Then I won't keep you," Young nodded. "My dinner is almost ready. My assistant will show you out."

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Roger the Soldier_


	3. Roger the Soldier

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 36

WHAT WE REALLY WANTED

_Chapter Three: Roger the Soldier_

Roger looked into the mirror at the officer staring back at him. With is hair slicked back and tucked under his hat he looked like the photos of himself back when he was a lieutenant in the military police. Only the captain's bars on his hat and shoulders gave any indication that time had passed, that and the numerous little bandages on his face. Lately he had been afraid of turning into the next Schwartzwald. Now it looked like he was on his way.

"Good luck on your first day back sir," Norman said quietly as he brushed Roger's military jacket with a lint brush.

"I'll get it back Norman, I promise," Roger announced. "In the meantime I'll try to convince Lester Young to sign you on as a civilian consultant."

"With respect sir my allegiance is to you," the old man said softly. "Not to the military police and not to Paradigm City."

"We still gotta live here Norman," Roger sighed.

"Miss Dorothy and I will keep the house in order until your return sir," Norman sighed.

"Speaking of Dorothy, where is she anyway?" Roger asked.

"I believe she stepped out sir," Norman replied.

* * *

In the meantime six hundred and sixty floors below the city an elevator door opened and a man wearing a fedora and a raincoat entered the room. His head appeared to be a gasmask worn under a motorcycle helmet. "Miss Dorothy," he said calmly. "I didn't expect to see _you_ here."

"Inspector O'Reilly something is wrong with Angel," the little redhead said to the taller android.

R Fredrick O'Reilly looked across the chamber at a woman sitting before a bank of television screens on the far wall. "I better see what's wrong." He strode over to the sitting blonde. "Miss Angel… what?"

What was wrong with the beautiful blonde known as Angel was obvious. Her arms were tied to her sides and a gag was in her mouth. Her legs were tied together too. In addition, she was unconscious, perhaps drugged.

"Miss Angel," the android said as he rotated her chair so she could face him and removed her gag. "Are you all right?" O'Reilly's body jerked like a rag doll before he collapsed like a marionette whose strings were cut. The slender girlish android was standing behind him holding a crackling electroshock device. She deactivated it and then seized O'Reilly by the ankles and dragged him away.

The little android took O'Reilly into another room were Dove and T-Bone were disassembling an android that looked like a crash test dummy. Beck crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

"Cripes boss!" Dove complained. "How many androids does this Angel dame got working for her anyway? This is the third one today!"

"Maybe we better override the control functions of one of 'em so it can take care of Gordon Rosewater for us," T-bone suggested. "I don't want ta have ta change the old man's diaper again!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if every android in the city was working for her," Beck muttered, "but with all these interruptions, _how am I supposed to work?"_ he shouted as he gestured in frustration.

"What exactly are you doing in there again boss?" T-bone asked.

"Glad you asked T-bone old pal," Beck smiled. "I'm using the Repository of Lost Memories to access everybody's dirty little secrets! With 'em we can blackmail those Paradigm chumps out of everything we can get out of them!"

"We'll make a whole lot of money, right boss?" Dove smiled.

"Dove, Dove, Dove," Beck gently scolded. "We've got a computer bank that can display and telepathically reveal anything we want to know and all you're thinking about is _money_?" He shook his head in disbelief. "This town _deserves_ a better class of criminal," he said sinisterly, "and I'm going to give it to 'em!"

* * *

When Roger arrived at Military Police Headquarters he went down to the firing range to requalify for his firearms license. He fired his pistol at the paper silhouette target and hit it in the center of the chest, before shooting a face that looked like a snowman's on the head of the target.

"That's great," Colonel Dastun muttered as he smoked a cigarette behind Roger in defiance of the 'No Smoking' sign on the wall. "When was the last time you picked up a gun?"

"A few months ago," Roger blushed as he remembered the identity crisis he suffered when his mentor had asked him to shoot him. It seemed like ages.

"How is that possible?" Dastun blinked at the target before them.

"I don't know," Roger admitted. There was no logical reason for it, but before the Ellen Waite case he never noticed.

"Well you filled out all the forms and signed the legal documents so let's get your refresher training over with so you can update your skills," Dastun shrugged.

"Update my skills?" Roger asked. "It's just the same old drills isn't it?"

"Yeah but you got to get indoctrinated again," Dastun shrugged. "Learn to take orders and think like a soldier again. Normally it's a six week long course."

"Six weeks?" Roger sneered. "I got to jump through hoops six weeks before I can find out what Paradigm has done with Big O?"

"Well if you're in a hurry there's one drill instructor that could probably push you through in a week or two," Dastun admitted, "but the pace is brutal! You up to it?"

"Anything to get this over with," Roger muttered.

"Okay, I'll make an appointment with Sargent-Major Hartman," Dastun nodded.

"Hartman?" Roger gasped. "Not _Gunnery Sargent_ Hartman, the drill instructor from Officer's Candidate School! Is he the same man?"

"The same," Dastun grinned, "and it will tickle him pink to get ahold of _you_ again."

"Maybe six weeks of retraining won't be so bad," Roger mumbled.

* * *

Soon a grizzled soldier with a Southern drawl was out on the training ground and in Roger's face. Roger had ditched the captain's uniform and settled for a T-shirt, trousers, a cap with a visor, and combat boots.

Hartman seemed to assume that all of his trainees were deaf, and at the volume he shouted at them they soon would be. Everything he said was a yell. "I am Sergeant-Major Hartman, your senior drill instructor! From now on you will speak only when spoken to! And the first and last words out of your filthy sewer better be 'sir.' Do you understand that maggot?"

Roger knew the drill. It was all coming back to him. "Sir, yes sir!" he declared.

"Baloney! I can't hear you!" Hartman sneered. "Sound off like you mean it!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Roger bellowed.

Hartman marched around Roger as the negotiator stood at attention. "If you leave this compound, if you survive officer reactivation training, you will be a weapon! You will be a champion of law and order, protecting the peace and praying for war! But until that day, you're nothing but a puke! You are the lowest form of life! You're not even a human being! You're nothing but an unorganized whiney piece of amphibian poop! Because I am hard, you will not like me, but the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. I don't care if you're an officer, enlisted, rich or poor. I don't even care if you're an android! If you're not part of the Military Police you are completely worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Military Police. Do you understand that maggot?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Roger barked.

"Baloney! I can't hear you!" Hartman sneered.

"Sir, yes sir!" Roger shouted.

"What is your name, scumbag?"

"Sir, Captain Roger Smith, sir!

"_Captain?"_ Hartman mocked. "Did I hear you say you were a _captain?_ I've never trained a _captain_ before! What's the name of your ship, _captain?"_

"Sir?" Roger wasn't expecting _that_ question.

"Sir, what? Were you about to call me an idiot?!"

"Sir no sir!"

"Were you about to ask me a question?"

"Sir no sir!"

"Well thank you very much!" Hartman sneered. "Can I be in charge for a while?

"Sir, yes sir!"

"What is the name of your ship, captain?"

"Sir, I don't have a ship, sir!" Roger barked.

"_You don't have a ship?!"_ Hartman mocked. "What kind of captain _are_ you? Do you even know how to swim Smith?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Captain Smith, why do you want to be an officer in the MP?"

"Sir, I was drafted sir!" Roger snarled.

"_You were drafted?!"_ Hartman cried in mock surprise. "What are you, a manuscript? Some kind of screenplay? Shoot, it looks like you need some revision, and I'm the kind of guy who always carries an eraser!" the old sergeant said as he tapped the sidearm in his holster. "Do you suck eggs?"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Baloney! I'll bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose!"

Roger let out a nervous chuckle.

"Do you think I'm cute, Smith? Do you think I'm _funny_?!"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face!"

The command was unnecessary for the smile was gone. "Sir, yes sir!"

"You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers and I will teach you! What happened to your face, Smith? Did you cut yourself shaving?"

His face reddening under his bandages Roger barked his reply. "Sir, no sir!"

"You look so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece!" Hartman declared. "Now let me see your war face!"

Roger remembered this part. "Aaaaaaaagh!" he screamed.

"Baloney! You didn't convince me! Let me see your _real_ war face!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!" Roger roared.

"You didn't scare me! Work on it!" Hartman cried.

It was all coming back, including the reasons Roger left the military police in the first place.

* * *

Roger spent the rest of the week drilling and going through obstacle courses. Dastun was right. The pace was brutal. Roger slept in the barracks and usually for less than four hours at a time with no communication with the outside world. And somehow that screaming old man managed to keep up with him.

"Come on, petty boy! Get up on that obstacle! Keep going!"

* * *

When the training was over, Roger felt like he was being released from prison. He retrieved his possessions and issued a badge, a pistol, and a new uniform. The first thing he did as a free man was go home and take off his bandages.

"Master Roger," his valet Norman greeted when Roger was in the bathroom admiring his boyish, rosy skinned and unscarred face. "Did Miss Dorothy come in with you?"

"What?" Roger asked. "No. Isn't she _home_ Norman? I thought she was with you."

"I'm afraid not sir," the old man apologized. "She's been missing since Monday. I looked everywhere. I tried to contact you but couldn't reach you. When I informed the military police, they disavowed all knowledge of her whereabouts. I had hoped that she was part of the Big O Project. It _is _considered top secret isn't it sir?"

"I shouldn't have taken my watch off," Roger sighed as he looked at the watch on his wrist. "I've been cramming a six weeks of remedial boot camp into one, and I can't think straight. Any idea where she could have went?"

"There is one clue," Norman offered. "One of our suitcases is missing so I checked Miss Dorothy's room. Some of her clothes are missing also."

"What?" Roger frowned. "Are you saying she _ran away_ from _home_? I'm used to her being kidnapped but _this_!" He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't have the energy to handle this right now. I'll go to bed and get on it first thing in the morning."

"Very good sir," the old man nodded.

* * *

The next day Roger was in uniform and in Colonel Dastun's office. "I know the timing is bad but I'd like a temporary leave of absence," he apologized.

"Bad timing is right," the grizzled colonel grunted from behind his desk. "What's this about? You got a negotiation job or what?"

"No it's nothing like that," Roger sighed as he nervously fiddled with his hat. "Dorothy has gone missing and I need time to look for her that's all."

"Hm," Dastun smiled as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I won't give you the time off but I'll tell you what I'll do for you," he offered as he tried to hide a smirk. "We've just got a rash of missing person cases this week and I think I'll put you on team I've got investigating. Five people have reported androids missing, including your own butler, Norman Burg."

"Five?" Roger frowned. "This isn't just about Dorothy then. Someone is targeting higher order androids just like last time. Did you ever find out who sent the android crusher after Dorothy that time?"

"Nope, but I get the feeling O'Reilly already knew," Dastun said. "It's a cinch that different factions of the Paradigm Company were fighting over something. The way he confiscated the android crusher's memory was the clincher."

"I had assumed that Alex Rosewater sent the killer android out eliminate androids with higher orders of memory," Roger sat down in a chair in front of Dastun's desk and stroked his chin. "Rosewater wanted to be the only one with access to Memories from forty years ago."

"Alex Rosewater isn't a factor this time," Dastun grunted. "Who's making the androids disappear now?"

"Why don't we ask R Fredrick O'Reilly?" Roger smirked. "You haven't been able to shake him for months. He knew what was going on last time; maybe he has something to share."

"That might be harder than it sounds," Dastun shrugged uncomfortably. "O'Reilly hasn't reported in for a week. I had hoped that the home office had called him back but after these missing android reports started cropping up we were forced to assume that he's disappeared too."

"This is serious if not even the Military Police is immune to missing an android," Roger frowned. "The question is: Where are they all going?"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: The Fall of Jeremiah Lynch_


	4. The Fall of Jeremiah Lynch

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 36

WHAT WE REALLY WANTED

_Chapter Four: The Fall of Jeremiah Lynch_

Down in a hidden chamber under the city, Beck and his cronies were hard at work. "Okay, Inspector, you're ready to go," Beck said as he finished installing a gold tiara atop Fredrick O'Reilly's metal head. "Get him to his feet boys." Dove and T-bone pulled a lever, pivoting the table that the inspector was strapped to so that instead of lying on his back he was on his feet. "We'll just put his hat on here," Beck said as he placed the android inspector's fedora over his head. "There! You can't see the control unit at all can you?"

"That's great boss!" Dove smiled.

"Now we'll have a plant in the military police if we need to!" T-bone agreed.

"It was a good idea of yours to install a control unit on one of the androids to take care of Angel and the old man for us, T-bone ol' pal!" Beck smiled. "Now that we don't have to worry about feeding and cleaning up after them we got more time to get down to business! Namely blackmailing those Paradigm chumps out of everything they've got!"

At that moment a television set flashed the word 'CALL' while an electronic noise that sounded like a busy signal sounded.

"Speak of the devil," T-bone grinned as Beck walked over to the television and operated a radio communications control panel.

A black and white image of Dorothy Wayneright's face appeared on the screen. "Agent D reporting," she said. "Jeremiah Lynch is in his hotel suite right now. I am moving into position."

"Good!" Beck smiled. "Contact me when it's done! Beck, out." He pressed a button on the console and Dorothy's image disappeared. "Well boys it's almost showtime! Get me Lynch's portfolio won't you?"

* * *

On the penthouse floor of the Paradigm Hotel two slender teenage girls walked past two burly men in black suits and through a door. The redhead was wearing a white cloak, and the brunette wore a red one. Both of them carried suitcases.

In a luxurious sitting room a middle-aged man in pajamas and bathrobe greeted the two girls. His handlebar mustache quivered in anticipation. "Welcome ladies, to my home away from home! I trust your stay will be enjoyable."

"Hello there, I'm Kat and this is Dee-Dee," the brunette greeted as she set down her suitcase and removed her red cloak to reveal her inky black hourglass catsuit with a deep laceup V neck and a front and back zipper.

The red haired teen was dressed more conservatively in a simple reddish black dress. She opened the suitcase and extracted a vinyl LP record and walked over to a record player. "Do you mind if we put on some music?" she asked in a soft monotone.

"Not at all," Lynch nodded graciously.

The record snapped and popped, and then Jason Beck's voice was heard. "Good evening Mister Lynch! Welcome to Paradigm's favorite game, the great game of _blackmail!_ Tonight we're shaking down one of Paradigm City's richest and most powerful scumbags, one of the company's very own executives: Jeremiah Lynch!"

"What?" Lynch sputtered. "Who _is_ this?" So startled were the teenage brunette and the middle aged lecher that they didn't notice the little redhead pull a bottle of chloroform out of her suitcase and dampen a cloth with it.

"Let's say I'm a friend," Beck's voice said from the prerecorded record, "a friend of decency and good taste."

"Do you know who I am?" Lynch thundered at the record player as the redhead used the chloroform soaked rag to render the brunette unconscious.

"Of course I do," Beck's voice replied. "You're Jeremiah Lynch, a supporter of Alex Rosewater's 'new order' and a man who's scheming to assassinate Lester Young and blame it on the Union. Not only that but you've been embezzling funds from the company for years. In addition you…"

"If you think I'm going to sit still for this!" Lynch's protest was cut short when the redhead seized him by the lapels of his bathrobe and slapped him across the face. "Ah!" Try as he might he couldn't break free. The little redhead was much stronger than she appeared.

"Hey!" Beck's voice snapped. "Shut up when I'm talkin'! I don't like being interrupted! Where was I? Oh yeah, you're closing your factories putting hundreds of people out of work while lobbying for a convict workforce to work in special facilities that you own. Basically you'll have all those unemployed chumps that had to steal for a living working for you all over again, this time for nothing! In addition you're a terrible letch who likes his women too young to order the strong stuff, preferably more than one at the same time. How am I doing?"

The redhead released Lynch, and was back at her suitcase pulling out an M1911A1 single-action .45 ACP semi-automatic pistol and attaching a silencer to the barrel. Lynch was staring at the record player in disbelief, unsure of whether it was a two way radio or a prerecorded message. "You'll never get away with this!"

"Actually I will," Beck's voice assured him. "It's _you_ who will never get away with this because I got all your dirty little secrets and the proof to go with them."

"W-what do you want?"

"Ah… a bargaining man!" Beck's voice crowed from the record player. "Funny you should ask, Lynch m' man. I want you to sign over all your stock in the Paradigm Company to me. You can still keep your severance pay and retire in style, but I want your shares in the company."

The redhead pulled the staggered executive to the coffee table where she placed a legal folder and a pile of documents.

"I've already had my men break into your home and take everything we need to get this done nice and legal," Beck's voice continued in a bored tone. "All you need to do is sign on the appropriate dotted lines. Don't worry about the lawyer's signature or the date or anything. I've already got enough dirt on your lawyer that he'll do whatever I say. Don't try anything stupid Lynch or I might ask Agent D over there to do something drastic."

The little redhead pointed the pistol at Lynch's head and used her thumb to pull back the hammer.

"Either your signatures or your brains are going to be on those documents." Beck's voice had a sharp edge. "Your choice of course."

"I'll sign! I'll sign!" the terrified executive shrieked.

"Good boy," the record player said as Lynch signed and initialed one document after another. "And there. And there. Don't forget that one. And one last one right… there! Good. Is everything in order Agent D?"

"Yes," she said as she perused the documents. "Everything appears to be in order."

"Good," Beck's voice said. "You know what to do. A pleasure doin' business with you Mister Lynch," the record player said as the redhead shot Lynch in the chest.

As Jeremiah Lynch breathed his last, the redhead put the documents, the record, the chloroform and the cloth back in the suitcase and put on her white cloak and hood. Drawing the hood over her head, she then picked up her suitcase and opened the door shooting both of Lynch's bodyguards at point blank range when she did so. When the two men fell to the floor she put an additional round in each of the men's heads.

* * *

Back at Beck's workshop the television flashed as the electronic chime sounded.

"Yes?" Beck asked as Dorothy Wayneright's hooded image appeared on the screen.

"Mission accomplished," the girl reported. "Target has been dealt with and I am on my way back to base. Payload intact."

"Good girl!" Beck cheered. "I'll give you your next assignment when you return! Over and out!" He looked back at his cronies. "Woo! We really gotta find a way to get the rest of the androids that helpful! This could _really_ cut down our workload!"

* * *

_I spent the day chasing leads and I think I found a pattern. All of the missing androids seemed to have a secret life they weren't telling anyone about. As a matter of fact, they spent most of their off hours away from home as if they had a second job or something. I checked with the church Instro sometimes played the organ at. He wasn't playing there anymore, not since the attack by the Union all those months ago. Come to think of it, it was after the Union's attack that all of the missing androids had started living secret lives. There was a connection and I wasn't seeing it yet, but at least I was on to something. The question was what? What did all of these androids have in common that nobody knew about? I still had more questions than answers. As the sun set over the city I couldn't shake the feeling that the missing androids' time was running out. _

The headlights glowed from Roger's car as he drove through the night through the one section of Paradigm City that still had heavy traffic: The central dome that had Paradigm Headquarters at its center. This was the hub of the city with hotels, banks, skyscrapers, and shopping malls. Even though the titanic dome was shattered this was still the most impressive neighborhood in the city, and also the most crowded. It was also a place where construction crews worked around the clock causing deadlock traffic morning or night.

As Roger waited at a traffic light he noticed a slender hooded form leaving the Paradigm Hotel. He must have had Dorothy Wayneright on the brain because when the light hit her face the tiny figure looked just like her. She was wearing a white cloak and hood over her reddish black dress and carrying a suitcase. Didn't Norman say that Dorothy took a suitcase with her when she ran away? In any case, there she was, and he wasn't going to let her get away from him now.

She didn't seem to notice him as she walked past his car without giving him a second glance. Was she playing it cool? There was no way she could miss his long black Cadillac. The thing was as big as a boat! There were parked cars between his car and the sidewalk but he could still see her walk up to the corner and wait for the light to change.

"Dorothy!" he shouted as he rolled down the window. "Hey Dorothy!" Stupid. If she ran away from home and heard Roger calling her name she would probably bolt. Nothing for it then. He had no choice but to parallel park and get out of the car and pursue her on foot.

The people in the car behind him couldn't believe it when they saw him get out of the Cadillac and jog to the sidewalk but they _really_ didn't believe their eyes when the Caddy was lifted on a central jack and onyx black armor unfolded around it turning Roger's car into a long black box.

Roger ran to catch up with the android as the light was changing. Dorothy was crossing the street walking at a brisk pace despite her slender little legs. He ran across the street pushing his way past other pedestrians in his haste to catch her. "Why does she have to be so short?" Roger groaned. "If she enters a crowd she could disappear! Wait! There she is! Dorothy!" he called as he pushed his way free of the crowd that was waiting at the crosswalk. His mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. For some reason he just couldn't keep it shut. "Dorothy! It's me, Roger!"

She stopped and turned her head to glance behind her. Her little white face and her brick red bangs were poking out of the white hood, but other than that she was completely hidden by her bright colorless shroud. It was a good thing she was wearing that white cloak, otherwise Roger might have missed her in the crowd.

White. Dorothy was in white. It was white, like a bridal gown. White like a viscous ooze that…

"Ah!" Roger cried as he grabbed his face and collapsed to the sidewalk. Horrified beyond measure, he looked up to see…

…Dorothy was dangling over the edge of Big O's open cockpit, clinging to Roger's hand for dear life. As she reached up with her free hand, her dainty fingers slipped out of his. Roger couldn't even hear himself screaming as he saw the terrified girl falling down to the malevolent white ooze below, her white dress fluttering like a billowing ghost. "DOR…THEE!" he shrieked.

"Dorothy!" he cried as he lay on the sidewalk in a fetal position. "Dorothy! You've got to hold on!"

"Are you okay Mister?" a blond little girl in pigtails asked him.

Roger opened his eyes to see a crowd of pedestrians looking down at him, their faces mixtures of concern and trepidation.

"Don't talk to him!" the girl's mother warned as she pulled the child away. "He may be a Military Police officer, but he's obviously not well!"

Roger sat up and wiped the sweat off his brow before staggering to his feet. Where was he? Who were all these people? What was he doing on this particular street corner and where was…

"Dorothy," Roger sighed as he looked up and down the street. There was no sign of her. "Where are you?"

* * *

_I walked up and down the street and circled the block but couldn't find her. Finally I returned to the Paradigm Hotel. Maybe someone had seen her there and could remember something that would tell me where she was now._

Roger deactivated the armor on his car and moved it out of the street to the surprise of the military traffic cop who was directing traffic around the long armored box. After leaving the black Cadillac in a parking garage, Roger entered the hotel lobby with a photograph of Dorothy Wayneright.

"I'm looking for this girl," Roger showed the picture to a bellboy. "Have you seen her? She was in here earlier this evening wearing a white cloak with a hood."

The bellboy looked at her picture and smirked but said nothing.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Here's a twenty dollar bill," he said as he pressed the money into the bellboy's hand. "There's another one in it after you tell me where she went."

"All I can say is that she was issued a key to go up to the penthouse floor," the bellboy shrugged. "There's a high roller up there but we're not allowed to know his name. I think he's a big man in the Paradigm Company."

"Where's the elevator that gets me up to the penthouse floor?" Roger asked.

"That one over there, the one behind the two big guys not guarding it but you can't get the elevator go up there without a special key."

"Don't worry I've got one," Roger said as he marched over to the elevator.

In no time at all he was intercepted by two large men with broad shoulders, thick necks and black suits. The one with the beard spoke. "Sorry fella, this elevator leads only to the penthouse. You'll have to take the one over there."

"I'm Captain Roger Smith, special investigator for Military Police. Here are my credentials," the negotiator replied as he showed them his badge and identification. He noticed that both the men reached for concealed firearms until it was obvious that he wasn't going for a weapon. "Let me through. I've got to see your boss."

"What for?"

"I'm on a special assignment and was told to report directly to him," Roger lied.

"I'll have to frisk you while my partner calls the penthouse," the bodyguard with the beard told him while his clean shaven partner went over to a telephone that was set in a niche next to the elevator.

"Why don't I just take my weapons out for you right now?" Roger suggested.

"Be my guest."

Roger smiled, gestured, and pulled a baton out of the holder on his belt and pointed at the bodyguard as if handing it to him. He then pressed a button causing the baton to extend to almost six feet striking the bodyguard in the face. Roger hit the injured bodyguard again for good measure before advancing and striking the second bodyguard as he turned from the phone to see what was going on. He gave that bodyguard an extra thump to make sure he stayed down and walked over him to enter the elevator.

"Sorry boys," he said as he retracted his staff into a baton and put it back on his belt. "You're boss isn't expecting me and I want to surprise him," he added as he opened his jacket and extracted what looked like a huge ball point pen. He pressed a hidden stud and a narrow strip of metal sprang out in a stiletto-like fashion. He placed the strip into the lock under the elevator controls and when he extracted it, the strip of metal was marked with the jagged teeth of a key. Pressing the device back into the keyhole and giving it a sharp twist caused the lock to emit a satisfying 'click'. Penthouse floor, here I come.

When Roger reached the penthouse floor he was horrified to discover that someone had gotten up there before him. Two men in suits just like the ones he left in the hotel lobby where at the end of a short hall in front of a door, but while Roger had stunned _his_ guys, the pools of blood under the men on the penthouse level indicated that whoever got here first had _killed_ them!

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Prime Suspect_


	5. Prime Suspect

_The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network._

THE BIG O:

ACT 36

WHAT WE REALLY WANTED

_Chapter Five: Prime Suspect _

Roger checked the two fallen bodyguards for a pulse, taking care not to step in the blood or get any on him. He didn't find a sign of life and hadn't expected to. The door the dead men had been guarding wasn't locked. Steeling himself, he opened the door and found a middle-aged man in his pajamas and bathrobe lying on the floor of his luxurious penthouse sitting room. He was lying on his back so there was no need to turn him over to identify him.

"Jeremiah Lynch," Roger muttered as he recalled the dossier Angel had gave him the day Beck defeated him with a sequence of numbers. Was it really just over a week ago? Jeremiah Lynch was a rotten apple to the core with a vice for each of the seven deadly sins. Angel had told him that Lynch was planning to assassinate Lester Young, the question was: Had Young found out and struck first?

Roger shuddered as he saw a teenage girl lying comatose on a divan. His face reddened as he recalled what Angel's file had said about Lynch's taste in women. She was probably dead too but he decided to check her anyway and gasped when he found a pulse. The girl was still breathing! And she smelled like chloroform. It was easy to figure out why she was unconscious. He sighed as he looked around the room and spotted a telephone.

_Normally I wouldn't call the Military Police, but I was a cop now. Besides, both the bellboy and the two goons I'd assaulted could identify me. Playing coy now would only get me a murder rap. The smart thing to do now was to call Military Police Headquarters and see if I could find any clues before they arrived._

* * *

Soon Colonel Dastun and a squad of military police arrived on the scene.

"You really screwed up Roger," Dastun scolded as he led Roger away from the crime technicians and the patrolmen. "You assaulted Lynch's bodyguards in the lobby. Now I come upstairs and find two more bodyguards dead and a dead Paradigm executive for good measure. The only living person we found here besides you is a teenage girl."

"Your point?" Roger shrugged as he grinned and assumed an uncaring façade.

"She may be a fallen dove, but compared to Lynch she's an innocent. You'd take Lynch and his men out in a heartbeat but you wouldn't harm a girl," Dastun continued as they walked out onto a rooftop patio to get some privacy. "Speaking of young girls, the bellboy tells me you were flashing around a photo of a girl that matches the description of R Dorothy Wayneright. Did you even know who was up here when you muscled your way in?"

"Again, what's your point?"

"A prosecuting attorney could say that Dorothy Wayneright was here," Dastun said. "With Lynch. You defended her virtue. In policeman speak: we call that 'motive.'"

Roger's smug smile faltered somewhat.

"If you wanted to incriminate yourself, it's hard to find a better way of doing it," Dastun sighed as he fished in his pockets for his cigarettes. "I thought you were a negotiator. Whatever happened to using words instead of force?"

"I'm a soldier now Dastun," Roger retorted.

"You're an _officer_ now," Dastun corrected him. ""What happened, Roger? Thinkin' got too hard for you? The bad guy doesn't even have to plant any evidence on you! He doesn't need to frame you; you're doing all the work _for_ him!"

"These men were killed by a gun," Roger insisted. "The sidearm I was issued is still in my holster and it hasn't been fired. In any case it's not the murder weapon."

"So you could have ditched it," Dastun shrugged, "just like the real killer probably did. And when we find it, people could say that you were the guy who used it."

"It's not like my fingerprints are on it or anything," Roger protested.

"That doesn't mean squat," Dastun retorted. "You're wearing gloves. You_ always _wear gloves. Anybody who knows you wouldn't bother to plant your fingerprints."

"Anyway _what_ people?" Roger asked. "_You_ know I didn't do this."

"Yeah, _I_ know, but can I prove it?" Dastun frowned as he stuck his cigarette in his mouth and lit up. He took a drag and blew it out slowly before continuing. "Let's face it Roger. We've been trimming Paradigm's tree of some rotten apples lately. We've made some powerful enemies, enemies who are looking for any excuse to get rid of us. Locking you up for murder and removing me from my post for obstruction of justice is just the excuse they're looking for. This is Jeremiah Lynch! He's on the board of directors! There's no way to cover this up. There's going to be hell to pay and if we don't find out who owes it's going to be us who'll pay for it."

"Any chance I could work with you on this case?" Roger asked.

"That depends," Dastun shrugged. "You got a reason for beating those guys up and barging in here like this?"

"I got a tip that Lynch might be in danger," Roger lied. "I didn't know if I could trust his bodyguard detail."

"And why were you showing Dorothy Wayneright's picture to the bellboy down in the lobby?"

"I was supposed to meet my informant," Roger shrugged. "I can't help it if her description tallies so closely with Dorothy Wayneright's."

"Your informant got a name?" asked a skeptical Dastun.

"She wouldn't give me her name," Roger grinned. "She just referred to herself as 'X'. That's all she'd tell me."

Dastun rolled his eyes. "That's pretty weak. You got a picture of your 'informant'?"

"I must have lost it," Roger shrugged without bothering to check his pockets.

"Fine," Dastun sighed. "I won't bother to check your story until orders come down from the main office. You think Lester Young will defend you? He seemed to think that you were irreplaceable."

"That depends," Roger slouched as his voice took on an apologetic tone. "The tip I actually got was that Lynch was planning to _assassinate_ Young."

"What? Assassinate him?"

"Yeah," Roger looked away. "He was going to blame it on the Union and make a play for the chairman's seat. Young could have found out about his little scheme and struck first. If so we're going to get hamstrung at every turn. We can't trust Young; for all we know he might be forced to throw us to the wolves."

"Great. This just keeps getting better and better."

"Hopefully this is a case of one of Lynch's other enemies catching up with him," Roger shrugged. "If so we can expect Young to back us up all the way."

"Yeah but since everybody else in the Paradigm Corporation has something to hide we're going to be stonewalled wherever we go anyway," Dastun muttered, "whether they got anything to do with the killings or not. Welcome back to the force Roger. I hope you haven't forgotten how to fill out a police report, 'cause I'm gonna be checking it over for mistakes." With those parting words, Dastun went back inside to take charge of the investigation.

Roger grunted and looked away. He wanted to stay on Dorothy's trail while it was still fresh. Instead he was implicated in a murder and forced to play cops and robbers. And deep down, he wanted to know if Dorothy was here when the murders took place. If so, why did she run when he called her name? If she had simply ran away for personal reasons she should have come to Roger for help shouldn't she? By running away she made herself a suspect, even in Roger's eyes, but could Dorothy actually kill?

He closed his eyes and recalled a conversation he had with her less than a month ago.

"There doesn't seem to be any failsafe protocols in my programming to prevent me from taking a life," the little android had said. "There's nothing to keep me from hurting somebody."

Did that mean that she could actually murder somebody, particularly someone who deserved it as much as Jeremiah Lynch?

No! It was impossible! Dorothy would never do that! Right after she told Roger about the absence of any failsafe in her programming she had claimed that she held all life to be sacred!

"I couldn't make the choice to end someone's life, not on purpose," Dorothy had said. "I just can't, for I know what death is. It means irrevocable absence, if not annihilation. I can't picture myself willingly doing that to someone else."

Dorothy didn't need any preprogrammed set of directives to keep her from taking a life. After witnessing her creator's murder she found the very concept repugnant. The only way she could possibly hurt someone was if somebody overrode her control systems and forced her to.

A memory of being almost hugged to death by a mind controlled Dorothy Wayneright popped into his head. At the time she was wearing a control device that looked like a gold tiara that had been constructed by…

"Beck," Roger cursed as his eyes narrowed in anger. "I should have known." Dorothy had been wearing a hood when he spotted her. Small wonder he didn't notice a golden tiara on her head. "He'll pay for this."

Roger walked back inside and found Dastun supervising. "Hey Dastun, I'd like to accompany the witness to the hospital. I'd like to be there when she wakes up."

"That could be a while," Dastun told him. "Sure you want to?"

"Either that or question the two guys I beat up in the lobby," Roger shrugged.

"Call me and give me a number I can reach you at the hospital," Dastun groaned.

"Will do."

* * *

As Roger navigated the streets of Paradigm City his mind couldn't stay away from Dorothy Wayneright. Why was she leaving the hotel? Had she really gone up to Jeremiah Lynch's suite? Did she have anything to do with the murder? What was in the suitcase she was carrying? And why did she run away from him when she spotted him? Why did she run away from home in the first place?

* * *

Soon the teenage bunette was sleeping in a hospital bed and Roger was dozing in a chair right next to her. He stirred in his sleep when he realized he wasn't alone. Orderlies and nurses don't wear black.

He opened his eyes groggily. "Ungh… Norman? What are you doing here?"

"When you didn't come home tonight I began to worry," the old man replied as he sat in a chair near Roger's own. "I called Colonel Dastun and he told me where you were. You can imagine my concern until he informed me you were just visiting."

Roger laughed sheepishly before groaning and rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"A little before ten sir," Norman told him. "If you intend to remain on guard I recommend you eat something. If you insist on staying here all night I have a change of clothing here for you," the old man added as he patted a suitcase that was leaning against his chair. "A fresh uniform sir."

"A suitcase," Roger muttered as he blinked at it before standing up and stretching. He slapped his cheeks to wake himself up before continuing. "I saw Dorothy leaving the Paradigm Hotel carrying a suitcase and wearing a white cape with a hood."

"Really Master Roger?" the valet replied. "Did she give any explanation for her absence or when she will be returning home?"

"No," Roger shook his head. "When I called her name she looked over her shoulder and disappeared. There was no way I could catch up to her on foot." Because I was having an episode, Roger added silently.

"Dear me that's too bad sir," the regret in Norman's voice was genuine. "I was hoping she'd return home. The house feels rather empty these days with Big O gone. I could use the company."

"Me too," Roger admitted. "Do you think that Beck got control of her somehow?"

"Before she left you mean?" Norman asked. "I don't see how sir."

"You're right," Roger sighed, "but what makes a perfectly logical android just up and run away like that?"

"Are you sure we should be thinking of her as a logical android sir?" Norman asked. "I mean, she _is_ a young lady. Perhaps if we thought of her as such her behavior would become clear."

"All right," Roger shrugged and rolled his eyes. "What makes a perfectly logical _young lady_ run away from home?"

"Are you certain she is perfectly logical sir?"

"I…" Roger frowned in concentration. Young ladies weren't logical. He tried to remember, what had Dorothy said the day Beck trashed Big O?

"Roger, if you love someone, isn't it normal to want the person you love to be happy?" she had said.

And what did Dorothy think would make Roger happy?

"It is obvious that you and Angel share a certain chemistry. She has changed a lot since we first met her. She is no longer the treacherous, unreliable woman she was last year. You could never be happy with a mere android, but maybe you could with the _new_ Angel."

"Where did _this_ come from?" Roger had demanded. "Since when did you start playing matchmaker?"

"You see me as some kind of child don't you?" Dorothy had retorted. "Angel is a grown woman, and perhaps the only human woman who understands you. If I'm not able to grow up in your eyes, perhaps _she_ can give you what you're missing in your life."

Did Dorothy really see herself as being in the way? Would she really martyr herself by leaving Roger just so he and Angel could have a chance at happiness?

Roger felt sick to his stomach as the realization hit him. Of course she would. She had done so before. When Beck's scorpion robots invaded his home the girlish android had surrendered herself to them in order to save his and Norman's lives. When she was overridden by Red Destiny's memory drive she almost jumped off the roof in order to save him. When Big O had run away from home Dorothy had done likewise because without Big O around, Roger couldn't protect her. The pattern fit. Roger didn't have Big O and wasn't going to seal the deal with Angel if it meant breaking the little android's heart. Poor Dorothy had once described herself as the ghost of the original Dorothy Wayneright who had died forty years ago. In her mind she was expendable since she was already dead.

"Oh Dorothy, Dorothy," Roger moaned as he sat back down and covered his face with both hands. "You have no idea how important you are to me."

"Indeed sir?" Norman asked hopefully.

"Us," Roger corrected himself. "She's important to _us_. Thanks for the change of clothes." The brunette in the hospital bed chose that moment to yawn and stretch. "Wait a minute Norman, she's waking up."

The girl opened her eyes. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Roger gently smiled at the girl. "My name is Roger Smith. I'm a captain in the military police. Are you all right miss? You're in a hospital," Roger added as the child looked around and took in her surroundings. "It is alright if I ask your name so I can contact your parents? They must be worried sick about you."

"My parents are dead," the girl snorted. "I don't need your help fuzz."

"Sorry kid, I hate to burst your bubble, but you need all the help you can get," Roger said using his 'authority' voice. "When I found you, you were out cold with a dead man in the room. He was a big shot, so my superiors are getting looking for someone to pin this on. You don't want it to be you. Now what is your name?"

"Kat, I mean, Annie Chapman," the girl admitted. "I don't know nothin'! Me and the new girl were supposed to 'entertain' him! This isn't me; I'm still new at this! I was a good girl before the white megadeus trashed the city, I swear!"

"I understand miss," Roger replied gently. "You said there was another girl in the room with you. Do you know where she is?"

"No and I ain't never seen her before!"

Roger swallowed and showed Dorothy's picture to her. "Is this the girl?"

"Yes it is," She nodded. "I think she was on something. She was real quiet."

"Thank you Miss Chapman," Roger nodded. "I'll inform the nurse that you're awake and see if I can get your possessions returned to you." He nodded at Norman and the two rose and walked out of the room. "Norman Dorothy was up there!" Roger whispered. "She was right in the room when Jeremiah Lynch was murdered!"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Dorothy's Diner _


End file.
